


The Best of Terms

by JaneDoh7



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDoh7/pseuds/JaneDoh7
Summary: Studying was boring.Studying with her was bearable.At least, it had been, until he had kissed his best friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a T-rated, light-hearted, comical one-shot. But then the feels came knocking. Actually, they brought the whole SWAT team and kicked the damn door down. And suddenly several chapters were required. Sorry.  
> So, be warned, it starts out fairly innocently enough, but will delve into E territory in later chapters. 
> 
> Once again, cheers to nuritacobarrubias for being an amazing beta even though this show is not her main fandom.

It had only been five weeks since they first kissed; hesitant and slightly awkward, but with a passion that had surprised both of them.

And, despite acknowledging they were delving into new territory, they had assured themselves that it wouldn’t really change things _that_ much.

But it had.

They had skipped out early from lab a few times, in favour of snogging for a while before the mess hall opened for dinner.

Maybe they had missed the odd tutorial, but they had reasoned it was hardly detrimental to their grades, seeing they could actually teach the tutor. They convinced each other that increasing their dopamine and oxytocin levels was a much more productive use of their time.

And they were most certainly lacking in sleep. That wasn’t to say they didn’t spend as much time in bed; it just wasn’t always on their own.

Things had definitely changed. A _lot._

And, at the most inconvenient of times - sitting cross legged opposite Jemma on her bed, the night before the final exam in the fall semester of their third year - Fitz was pondering that revelation.

He had some vague recollection of an analogy to a whirlwind he had heard people describe: everything happened so quickly that parts of it were a blur, a whole lot of adrenalin was involved, and when you came out the other side of it, things had changed.

Coping with change was not Fitz’s forte.

They had studied in her room multiple times before, even on topics they knew they didn’t really need to. They _were_ geniuses, after all. It was just . . . _routine_ he guessed. But now, whenever she bit her bottom lip in concentration, the previous paragraphs Fitz had just read seemed to be pushed from his memory in favour of reminiscing over those lips against his.

It was simply too distracting.

He came to a disconcerting conclusion: Jemma’s presence and studying were currently incompatible. He took a deep breath. He knew it would disappoint her, but it had to be said. “I can’t do this anymore, Jemma.”

She glanced up from the text book that was nestled in her lap. She’d heard the deeper intake of breath and knew it often preceded a statement that Fitz was willing his courage to allow. “Can’t do what anymore?” she asked, mild concern in her voice.

“ _This,_ ” he said, gesticulating between them frantically, as though that somehow would help her ascertain his meaning.

She cocked her head to one side, one eyebrow arched. It meant: _you need to elaborate_.

“Studying!” He gave an exasperated sigh. “My brain just can’t handle the boredom of rehashing concepts I had already grasped at the start of term, when it now knows what other things we could be doing.” He squinted his eyes and winced, not meaning to reveal quite that much. He put his hands up in a placating manner. “I just mean, we have gone over this countless times. I know the material, you know the material - to the point we can basically recite it in our sleep.”

She let out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding. She honestly didn’t know why she had been worried. _This_ she could deal with. He often got restless after a few hours of study and had implemented many ploys to try to get out of it.

To be fair, she _did_ enjoy studying more than the average student. Okay, more than any student she knew. But she never _forced_ him to stay. But, whenever she would point out he was free to go and waste time if he so desired, he would merely grumble some indeterminate sentence that often contained the phrase ‘can’t let you beat me on every test’ and turn back to the books with a sulky look.

She tried to make light of his concerns. “Well, maybe I could spend less time having to revise from books if you sleep-talked useful equations instead of mumbling nonsense.”

“You don’t even _need_ to revise, you just seem to absorb knowledge from . . .” he hesitated in his onslaught, his brain finally processing her whole statement, “wait . . . I sleep-talk?”

“Hmm, more like . . . sleep-babble?” she offered as explanation.

“Huh,” he said thoughtfully, his mind imagining Jemma gazing at him adoringly as he muttered in his sleep. Or maybe it was in controlled restraint to not elbow him for disrupting her precious few hours of slumber.

It was probably the latter.

 He shook his head slightly, trying to shift his focus back to the point he was trying to make. “Anyway, as I was saying, we both know the material inside out.” He found a loose thread on her blanket and distractedly picked at it. “I mean, maybe it would actually be more beneficial if we . . . took a break?” he suggested, an allusive inflection accompanying the last few words.

“Fitz, we don’t have _time_ for a break. The test is tomorrow.” Either she was missing his euphemism entirely, or she was sliding into her pre-exam stress mode where anything that _wasn’t_ study was out of the question. She overtly looked at her watch. “In twelve hours to be exact. And I want to recheck the questions from past exams.”

He flopped back on the bed with a dramatic groan, covering his face with the textbook. He was hoping it would emphasise his displeasure. Instead, it only served as a moderate source of suffocation. And it was _heavy._

“Stop being so dramatic.” He heard her sigh, and hoped it was because she was succumbing to his plea. And then he felt the mattress move as she shifted position. He smiled to himself under the shroud of pages, waiting for either comforting words, or the feel of her hands coming to rest against him consolingly.

But, neither was forthcoming.  He could actually hear the tick of the small clock that was on her bookshelf.

His tantrum only lasted a few more seconds before he lifted the edge of the book and peeked from underneath. Jemma didn’t seem to be taking pity on him. In fact, she wasn’t taking notice of him at all.

She was now sitting at her desk, talking to him over her shoulder. “Give me half an hour to run through the practise questions and then I may reconsider.”

That seemed to placate him somewhat. He reckoned he could endure half an hour more torture. He grabbed the closest book to him and powered on.

He lasted five minutes. _Nope. Not happening_.

“I’m going to go have a cuppa. You want one?”

“No, thanks,” she said, leaning over to grab her highlighter from the bedside table. “It will only make me have to get up and pee in the middle of the night. And I need to get a good night’s sleep.”

 

XXXXXXXXX

 

Jemma was so invested in the paragraph on the Boltzmann equation that she didn’t hear Fitz enter her room again. The first indication she had of his return was when his arms slid around her waist from behind.

“Fitz!” She jumped to such a degree that a waterfall of A4 papers cascaded from the desk. She slapped his bicep with the back of her hand. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He squeezed her a little tighter in rebellion.

“It isn’t wise to trigger someone into fight-or-flight mode when they are already highly strung.”

“Well, luckily I am holding you securely so you can’t run.”

“That doesn’t negate the fight component though,” she warned.

He quickly kissed her cheek and made his retreat, just in case she wasn’t joking, and crouched down to pick up the papers that now littered the floor.

“So, you should go over these questions a final time, now that you are back from your break.”

“That wasn’t the kind of break I originally had in mind.”

She gave him a withering look. “You should be making damn sure you do well tomorrow. It _is_ the highest weighted assessment.” He knew she was just trying to scare him into complying with more study. “I know _I_ couldn’t live with the embarrassment if Milton scored higher than me.”

He took a sharp intake of breath, mouth dropping open in feigned shock. “That was _one_ time. And you know I had the flu for the week leading up to that.”

“Um, so did I,” she countered. “Well, for five days at least, seeing I caught it _from_ you.”

He crossed his arms in defence. Everyone knew man-flu was so much worse.

Her face softened. “Fitz, I want _both_ of us to do well tomorrow.” She gave him a meek smile. “I like us being at the top. Like a team.”

He returned her smile, enjoying the brief moment of mutual admiration. Her smile broadened, and then she abruptly turned back to her desk. “Right, so if we just make sure that we reread chapter four and go through the questions at the end, we should be fine.”

Fitz groaned. She was incorrigible. “You do know that studies have shown that cramming at the last minute is not an effective study technique, right?”

“I’m not cramming . . . I’m reviewing.” Her fingers were tapping a rapid staccato against the desk. He could tell she was spiralling. Sometimes his confidence in her was the slap of reality she needed.

“Jemma,” he pulled the remaining papers out of her grasp and tossed them on the bed, then cupped her hands between his own, “if I am confident enough that I am going to blitz this test, _you_ are going to ace it. You are _more_ than prepared, and stressing about it isn’t going to help.”

“I know,” she said with a whine. “But you know how I get. If I’m too stressed I won’t sleep, and if I can’t sleep, I’ll start stressing about not being able to sleep.”

His brow furrowed in understanding and then he stood up. “Come here,” he said, curling his fingers so her palms were clasped in his and tugged on her hands until she rose from her seat. And then he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and she rested her head against his chest. He felt her arms slide around his waist, pulling them closer together.

“You’ll be fine,” he said. He felt her chest expand against his as she took a deep breath. “More than fine.” Biology wasn’t his area of expertise but he grasped the basic concepts, and he just hoped the endorphin release would be enough to calm her down. He rested his cheek against the side of her head, pleased that the tension in her body seemed to be dissipating as she relaxed in his embrace.

“Better?”

He felt her nod against his shoulder, her response muffled by his cardigan. “Better.”

He held her for a few moments longer. “You know, in the last few weeks I have discovered an activity that seems to help you de-stress _and_ helps you sleep afterwards,” he said suggestively.

Her hold on him didn’t falter, but she leaned her head back until she could give him her best deadpan look.

He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

Her lips remained pursed, but he could see the slightest curl beginning at each corner.

He raised his shoulders up near his ears, as though daring her to disagree.

Her head tilted slightly. “Maybe we can come to some sort of compromise.”

Fitz was eager to agree with any situation which would ultimately get him laid that night, but Jemma was a crafty one, so he merely peered at her suspiciously, unwilling to commit until she elaborated.

“Prove to me you don’t need to study anymore.” She released her grip and sat back down on the bed, then sorted through the disarray of papers in the pile. “But if you fail, we go through the whole chapter again.”

Fitz didn’t want to seem too cocky, but he was actually pretty confident that whatever she threw at him, he could deal with. He resumed his usual position sitting cross legged at the foot of her bed and waited.

She held up one wrinkled page, dragging her finger across the surface until it abruptly stopped. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she skimmed over the contents, then shrugged her shoulders as though approving the question was a worthy test. “If you can recite the three major points of question seven verbatim without having to refer to the text, I’ll . . .” she started, pausing as she seemed to rifle through options.

She looked at him, a small smirk emerging. Then she leaned forward, slowly crawling the couple of feet between them.

He braced his hands behind him, leaning back ever so slightly. He suddenly felt like helpless prey. _Oh no, what have I done?_

He swallowed deeply as she inched closer. When they were close enough that their breaths mingled, she looked down at his lips. _Okay, she is going to kiss me. Try to distract me so I can’t answer the question. I can handle this._

He closed his eyes in anticipation. But then her breath was against his ear. Not what he was expecting, but a pleasant sensation nonetheless.

“If you can answer correctly, I’ll . . .” She paused again. Fitz’s opened his eyes and looked sideways at her. She met his stare and bit her lip as though debating whether or not to reveal the rest of the sentence. And then she cupped her hand over his ear.

He couldn’t help the small smile at the thought of her being so coy when they were alone. And then she whispered the things she was going to do to him. His eyes widened at the revelation. That was anything _but_ coy.

She tilted her head, waiting to see if he agreed to the terms.

However, thinking wasn’t high on the agenda at the moment. The blood that usually supplied his brain seemed to urgently be needed elsewhere.

He swallowed deeply, words eluding him.

She leaned back on her knees.

“Agreed?”

He nodded his head vigorously.


	2. Chapter 2

Fitz flipped the page, smiling when he realised he had reached the last one. He glanced at the clock at the front of the hall: still thirty minutes left for a three hour exam. He was breezing through it.

He laced his fingers and bent them out until he heard his knuckles crack. He scanned the room. Everyone else was bent over their tables, furiously scribbling away. Even Jemma, who sat two rows across and one in front, was hunched over the paper in front of her, but he couldn’t ascertain her frame of mind because her face was hidden behind a curtain of dark hair.

He turned his attention back to the exam. There was only one question on the page.

He couldn’t believe his luck. It was _that_ question; the exact one Jemma had fortuitously chosen the night before. He grinned at the kindness the cosmos seemed to bestow upon him.

He instinctively looked over at Jemma to see if she had also reached the question, only now her face wasn’t hidden behind her hair. She had tucked the loose waves behind her ear, and he could see her profile perfectly as her eyes scanned the page, absently rolling a pencil against her lips as she processed whatever she was reading.

And then his brain most unhelpfully bombarded him with images of what that mouth was doing to him last night. _Dear God, not now._

As much as he knew it was a bad idea, he couldn’t seem to look away, his heart starting to thump more forcefully as her lips encased the pencil when she freed her hand up to turn the page. And his reverie was only broken when a trouser clad crotch suddenly appeared in his line of site. He blinked rapidly, eyes scanning upwards, past arms that were assertively crossed, until they ended on a stern face.

“Does there seem to be a problem?” the exam invigilator asked, sarcasm oozing from his words.

“Err, nope,” Fitz stammered, starting to blush as he realised several of his classmates were peering over to see what the commotion was about.

“I suggest your eyes go back on the page then.” The phrase was accompanied by a distinctly smug look. Fitz often wondered where they conjured these people up from. They always seemed so bloody self-righteous, waltzing down the rows of desks as though they had the power to smite lowly students. I mean, what were their qualifications anyway?

In a movie-version of himself, Fitz imagined saying just that, but instead he merely nodded in acquiescence.

The unnamed figure seemed satisfied and continued his ominous journey between the columns of chairs, students hurriedly turning their attention back to their work, lest he think anyone else might be cheating and forcibly evict them from the room. He didn’t see the mocking gesture Fitz was making behind his back.

Before Fitz’s eyes once again focused on the page, he saw Jemma in his periphery, pinching her lips together firmly, trying to suppress a giggle.

He took a deep breath. _Just get this done, and get out of here._

He scanned the question again quickly, just to make sure it wasn’t altered slightly. It was word for word. All he had to do was recall what he had recited last night.

And therein lay the problem. As he started filling out the first part of the answer, he remembered Jemma’s impressed look and that he had given her a cocky grin in response. And then her lips were on his neck, telling him to keep going between kisses as she had started unbuttoning his shirt.

Fitz didn’t have the neatest writing at the best of times, but he was pretty sure a semi-skilled monkey could have done a better job than the scribble he was currently creating. He loosened the tie that now felt quite constrictive around his neck. Why the hell did he even wear a tie to an exam? It now seemed like an entirely ridiculous idea.

By the time he had finished the first portion of the question, his mind was linking it with the sensation of Jemma’s tongue dipping into his navel.

He cleared his throat and powered on to the second part. He managed the first couple of sentences before the word _entropy_ caused an involuntary twitch in his pants. He panicked. Would that word now forever be associated with the feel of Jemma’s delicate yet eager hands cupping him through his jeans? He was a scientist for heaven’s sake. He came across that word _weekly_. He now realised that the impromptu study technique from last night may have far-reaching consequences.

He closed his eyes, squeezing his thumb and forefinger into the sockets. How that was supposed to suppress mental images, he had no idea, but he had to try _something_.

But the more he wrote, the more vivid his memories became.

Equilibrium: Jemma’s fingers slipping below the waistband of his jeans.

Quantum vacuum: enticing fingers tugging down his zipper.

He frantically kept scrawling, trying to ignore the unholy thoughts now paired with previously mundane notions.

Absolute zero:  Jemma’s palm, starting to firmly stroke his length.

Fitz bit the inside of his cheek, his left leg jiggling unconsciously.

Stochastic process: Jemma’s warm mouth, finally wrapping around his . . .

He couldn’t help jerking forward in his seat; it caused his pencil to break. Of course. If that wasn’t the embodiment of a euphemistic joke on a universal scale, he didn’t know what was.

He almost groaned in frustration, the acute awareness that he was surrounded by his peers thankfully overriding the action. He glared at the traitorous object. There was no way he was going to attempt to sharpen it. His fine motor skills were already failing him, so he opted to abandon it altogether for a new one.

This was supposed to be the short answer component of the exam. It was starting to feel like a damn essay. He started to get fidgety. He knew the rules: no leaving the hall within the last twenty minutes of the exam to minimise disturbing your fellow students. He looked at the clock: three minutes to make an escape, or risk being stuck until _pens down_.

He took a deep breath. He just had to get through the final part. However, he needed to find some way to divert his attention from the distracting - albeit delightful - images his mind was so unfairly thrusting at him.

He erroneously thought that looking over at Jemma under exam conditions - fully clothed and the epitome of propriety - may help. Unfortunately, that was the exact moment she reached the final question too.

Her face actually appeared flushed, and he could see her chest rising and falling more rapidly as she started to take her jacket off. He caught her eye as she turned to drape it over the back of her chair. She almost looked flustered. _Maybe she is just as affected by the situation as I am?_ That thought made him feel somewhat better. He was trying to gauge her reaction, but she was surreptitiously glancing around the room to see if anyone was looking before her attention returned to him.

And then she winked at him.

That was his final undoing. His pants were now dangerously constrictive. He hastily grabbed the few items that were scattered on the table and shoved them back in the pencil case. Answering the problem in its entirety was not worth risking his dignity over. He closed the exam paper and pushed his chair out as quietly as possible, trying to draw the minimum amount of attention to _his_ rapidly growing problem.

As soon as he exited the exam hall, he hooked his fingers in the loopholes of his jeans, pushing down in the hope that it would reduce some of the pressure of the fabric against the distinctive bulge. At least everyone else was now trapped in the exam until the final call. And he hoped, by some miracle, that he could make it back to his dorm without encountering another soul.

He placed the pencil case – which now seemed comically small – over his general crotch region and started heading home. He considered jogging, but then realised that it would most likely just attract more attention to himself. If anyone ever saw that he was jogging, they would surely know something was amiss.

A brisk walk would have to suffice.


	3. Chapter 3

Fitz leaned against the inside of his dorm-room door, a heavy breath escaping.

He was sure he had entered some type of strange dimension: the campus had never seemed to stretch such a distance, and he didn’t recall twelve minutes ever feeling that long.

He threw the pencil case on his bed and looked down in dismay at the still-present bulge. He discarded his cardigan and started to pace the room, a habit of his whenever he was trying to work his way through a problem. He came to a disheartening realisation: if walking the breadth of the campus had done little to quell his urges, navigating the confines of his room was most unlikely to resolve the issue.

There was no way he was going to be able to function for the rest of the day unless he took care of this _now._

One of the perks of being a third year student was that you had your own bathroom. Fitz had never been so grateful for that three by eight foot area of solitude.

He undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt in record time, unceremoniously dropping them in a heap on the floor. He grabbed his phone out of his back pocket and placed it next to the sink, then removed his jeans and boxers as quickly as his delicate state would allow.

He wasn’t even going to bother with the cold water trope; he had some delicious mental imagery to draw on and he was damn well going to capitalise on it.

He stepped in the shower and turned the tap, standing under the hot spray for a few seconds, enjoying the sensation of the warm rivulets trickling down his body. He took himself in his hand, only needing to pump along his length a few times to become fully engorged. Even though he _was_ starting with a significant advantage, it had never been that quick before. He would not ever have imagined that a simple wink from Jemma would have been enough to ramp up his hormones to such a level.

He cursed her and praised her in equal measure.

He closed his eyes, circling his thumb over the tip of his cock, tracing the same path as Jemma’s tongue from the previous night. He didn’t even try to suppress the long groan that escaped and braced his left hand against the wall of the shower, grasping himself more firmly. He tried to recreate her actions; slow at first, like her mouth had been when it had eventually encased him fully.

But then he pictured that brief moment she had looked up at him before working on him in earnest: mesmerised yet determined, and full of adoration. And the same sensation that had flooded him the night before came back with full force. He had been so captivated by the moment that coherent thoughts had escaped him, but this time, he realised what it meant. His heart was thumping rapidly, and it wasn’t just because of the physical sensations. He was in love with Jemma Simmons.

He tried to pretend it was just biology playing tricks on him, using a moment of endorphin induced weakness to tempt his emotions. But he knew it, deep down. _I love Jemma._

He thumped the wall, ashamed of himself for coming to this realisation as he was wanking in the shower. This was not how it was supposed to happen, right? It somehow felt wrong, like he was degrading her and he was caught in two minds about continuing. But he could feel the blood throbbing through his cock and remembered her whispered words from last night, urging him to stop thinking, and just feel. And suddenly his hand was resuming its previous action, speeding up with each pass.

 

XXXXXXXXX

 

Jemma practically bounded out of the exam hall. She scanned the area outside, hoping to see Fitz sitting under one of the trees, or even sleeping on the grass. She waited a few moments for the flood of students to disperse. He was nowhere to be found. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment.

It wasn’t unusual for him to leave an exam before her. In fairness, he couldn’t exactly leave _after_ her, because she always stayed until the end, revising her answers and tweaking them even though she often provided more detail than was actually required. But he usually waited for her, content to compare answers as they ambled back to the dorms or headed to the Boiler Room.

This was definitely unusual behaviour.

She plucked her phone out of her jacket pocket, and clicked on the name at the top of her favourites list.

 

XXXXXXXXX

 

He was close. _So close._

His hand was pumping furiously. And then he heard his phone vibrating against the countertop. _No, no, no, no, no. Ignore it._

It was probably Jemma. Maybe someone was actually ringing to warn him the building was on fire. At this point, he didn’t care. He squeezed his eyes together tightly, willing himself to that elusive conclusion. He could feel his cock pulsing as he tried maintaining rhythm despite the incessant buzzing.

He risked a quick glance. It _was_ Jemma. Her picture lit up the screen of his phone. And that image felt like it miraculously altered the course of his optic nerve directly to his cock. He could feel his balls starting to tighten, and five more swipes of his hand had him shooting his load over the wall of the shower.

He let out a heavy breath, conflicted with feelings of satisfaction and guilt, and he let his head fall against the tiled wall. He left it resting there, but his eyes shifted sideways until he could see the phone, debating if he should answer it.  

Physical activity was not high on his priorities list. Scrap that; _previous_ to Jemma and him discovering a physical activity they both enjoyed, Fitz was not known to regularly partake in exercise. But he was currently sucking in breaths like he had just run a marathon. If he answered in such a state, she would most definitely be suspicious.

He’d have to call her back. He turned the shower off and tried to step on to the bathmat, but his legs seemed to resent the idea of functioning properly.

A few moments to recover first was probably wise.


	4. Chapter 4

Fitz was leaning against the wall outside Jemma’s block, hands shoved deep in his pockets and staring at the ground, doing his best to act nonchalant. However, he was deep in thought about the revelation he had had while in the shower, not taking any note of the students that occasionally came and went around him. He realised he had no idea what he should do about it.

Jemma spotted his lanky frame from across the quadrangle, breaking into a smile as soon as she noticed him. Her pace picked up automatically and when she reached the stairs she used the railing, worried she might stumble in her haste. She was excited to see him but he didn’t even seem to react until her sneakers were in his line of sight. She came to an abrupt halt though, when he finally looked up at her.

“Are you okay?” The back of her hand instinctively went to his brow. “You look a little flushed.”

His eyes widened in horror. “Yeah, fine.” Her hand lingered, longer than necessary. “Good. Great. Never better.” _Just stop talking,_ he pleaded with himself.

Her hand slid down to cup his jaw, which only added to his blush. They were out in public, for heaven’s sake. Mind you, no-one else was actually there right at that moment to bear witness, _but_ _still._ He delicately took her hand, keeping it clasped within his but instead let their entwined fingers fall to the small gap that lay between them.

He almost retaliated by mentioning that _she_ had looked rather flushed during the exam, but failed to see how that would help his situation in any way. In fact, mentioning it would only make him start reminiscing again, which would most definitely be to his detriment. Even now, just the feel of their palms resting together had his heart rate climbing once again.

How was she now _not_ affected? The playfulness she had furtively directed towards him during the exam seemed to have been replaced by disappointment. He knew their biology was different, but he really did find the opposite gender quite perplexing at times.

“You sure?” she asked, concern in her voice.

He nodded his head and gave her the most convincing _I promise_ look her could muster.

That seemed to placate her and she took a deep breath. He felt her hand gently squeeze his. And then there was a scraping sound as the glass door at the entrance of the building was pushed open. Both Fitz and Simmons jumped at the noise, dropping one another’s hand.

The O’Shea twins excitedly tumbled out the door, sipping from a bottle of pre-mixed spirits. They waved at Jemma and she smiled warmly at them as they jumped down the stairs two at a time.

She grabbed at the door before it could fully close, then smiled at Fitz. “Well, that’s a relief. It would be rather disappointing to be at less than peak performance when there are celebrations to be had.” She slipped through the gap, keeping her hand on the metal frame until Fitz had also passed through. “I was worried when you didn’t answer your phone right away.”

He hoped his swallow wasn’t audible. It definitely sounded loud inside his head. “I just didn’t hear it over the music.”

She gave him a slightly puzzled look; Fitz wasn’t known for listening to loud music. She seemed to ruminate his statement briefly, before deciding it seemed reasonable. He cursed himself for not coming up with something more believable. Why hadn’t he just said he was in the shower? Technically, he wouldn’t have been lying.

As they walked through the lower floor, they passed a few of their classmates. Fitz mostly kept his head down, worried that passers-by would somehow know what he had been doing after finishing the exam. He would give a perfunctory nod when he deemed it necessary.

Fortunately, Jemma did enough talking and waving and general niceties for the both of them. Her mood seemed to improve the longer they walked together. He hoped it was because of his presence, but maybe she was just absorbing the exuberant atmosphere of post-exam freedom.

“Lucky you didn’t leave it too much longer to call back and say you’d meet me here,” she said as they climbed the stairs to her floor. “I was already on my way to your room to check your vital signs,” she joked, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. He cringed at the thought of what might have happened if her journey had been a little quicker. A tachycardia would have been the least of his worries.

They had just reached the corridor that lead to Jemma’s room, when they were nearly bowled over by Sebastian as he came hurtling around the corner. All three let out an audible _oof_ at the impact. Given that he was four inches taller than Fitz - positively dwarfing Jemma - and built like a Norse warrior, he had quite a bit of momentum behind him. The force pushed the smaller two backwards, and, in a most chivalrous gesture, Sebastian grabbed at Jemma’s forearms to help steady her.

“Whoops, sorry,” he said. “I just have a bit of nervous energy to burn after the exam.”

“No harm done,” Jemma said, smiling sweetly.

Fitz noticed Sebastian hadn’t removed his hands. He wondered if he should point out that the inertia had now been overridden and Jemma was no longer in imminent danger of falling over. Instead, he said: “I’m fine too, by the way.”

Sebastian seemed to have only just noticed him. He slapped him good-naturedly on the upper arm. Fitz actually stumbled a couple of steps sideways.

Sebastian lived in the room opposite Jemma, and had obviously already dumped his stuff and was heading out again. “Coming to the Boiler Room to join the celebrations?”

“Yeah, sounds like fun,” Jemma said in a perky voice. Fitz looked at her sideways. He knew Jemma was quite gregarious in general, but now she was starting to seem positively amped with all the excitement of upcoming celebrations. However, he didn’t have much time to dissect his musings before being interrupted.

“Hey, Fitz, I saw you left the exam early.” Sebastian gave him a cocky grin. “Too hard was it?”

“What?” Fitz said, a look of panic in his eyes. _Hard?_  Had Sebastian seen his . . . predicament?

“You. Leaving early. Were the questions too hard for you?” He was beaming like he had just made the best joke in the world.

“Ohhh.” Fitz laughed nervously. “I just . . . uh” He was still flustered and sensible words were not presenting themselves.

“Of course not,” Jemma said, graciously helping him out. “You know Fitz; he never bothers going back and checking his answers at the end. It is _deeply_ frustrating that someone can be that smart with such little effort.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Fitz agreed.

“Anyway, meet you there later? I just have something to take care of first.” Jemma took two steps, before halting when she realised Fitz wasn’t padding along beside her. “Come on,” she urged, grabbing him by the sleeve of his cardigan and hauling him in her wake. Obviously she meant _we’ll_ meet you there later.

“Bye,” Fitz murmured. Sebastian merely smiled and shook his head at the pair. Fitz wasn’t sure what it was supposed it mean. Probably something about Fitz blindly following Jemma’s every whim. To be honest, he didn’t really care. Jemma was much more organised than him anyway. And, after the events of the afternoon, he was more than happy for her to do the thinking so he didn’t have to waste any more brain power.

They hadn’t exactly announced the development in their relationship to anyone else, but he was pretty sure most of the campus had figured it out.

Or maybe they hadn’t.

When Fitz thought back over the past five weeks, he realised that their behaviour when they had an audience was still pretty consistent with how they had _always_ been with each other. He thanked the stars the others didn’t know what went on behind closed doors. Or against the tree behind the physics building. Or that one time in the back corner of the library.

When they were half way down the corridor, Jemma suddenly stopped and turned to face Fitz, her head cocked to the side slightly. She looked him up and down.

“Weren’t you wearing a tie?”

Did she also notice he had changed his shirt? Granted, it was the same style and colour as the one he wore earlier, but it was definitely one shade darker. And she did have remarkable observation skills. _Oh no, she is going to figure out what I was doing after the exam. Just act natural._ He scrunched his nose up. “You know, I have just been reconsidering whether I should wear them as often.”

“Huh. Too bad.” She fingered the collar of his shirt. “I think you are cute in a tie.”

“ _Jemma!”_ Fitz said in a controlled whisper, blushing at her words. He still got embarrassed when she complimented him in private, let alone in a public space.

She laughed. “There is no one here, Fitz. Most of them went straight from the exam to the Boiler Room.” They had arrived at her door and she turned to pass him her belongings while she grabbed her key from her jacket pocket.  “So, did you make good use of your early mark?”

“Just relaxed. You know; listened to some music,” he started, proud at his ability to keep his story consistent, “had a shower.” He tried to make the sentence sound as mundane as possible.

“I see,” Jemma said as she used her back to push the door open, conveniently leaving her hand free to rub through a mass of damp curls, “your hair is still wet.”

He looked down the corridor quickly, glad that no one else was witness. He couldn’t ascertain why he was concerned; she had done things like that even before they were together, but it just felt different now.

He grabbed at her hand and extricated it from his scalp. He made a half-hearted attempt to flatten the area she had just mussed up as she grabbed her pencil case from him and continued backwards into her room.

“Are you sufficiently convinced we are alone now?” she asked as she kicked her sneakers off and pushed them with her toes until they sat neatly beside the door. “You don’t want to check under the bed, just in case?” She removed her jacket and placed it beside the pencil case on her desk, a smirk on her face.

He gave her a withering look. Honestly, sometimes he wondered why she mocked him so much for being conservative. She positively exuded decorum. Well, at least when they were in public. Recent data suggested that wasn’t always the case in private.  

He decided not take the bait, turning his back to her as he closed the door to her room. “So, what did you need to take care of before heading off?” he asked, the click of the latch echoing in the small room.

He twisted to face her, not expecting her lustful eyes to suddenly be mere inches from his. “You.”


	5. Chapter 5

Before Fitz could even consider how to react, Jemma was on her toes, hands clenching the edges of his cardigan as her lips crashed against his. Without any conscious effort, his hands looped around her waist. Maybe he was developing muscle memory in response to the numerous times she had pressed herself up against him in the last few weeks. He clasped his fingers together and lifted her even higher, the tips of her toes barely grazing the ground in a display that would make an aspiring ballerina jealous. It also had the benefit of pushing them more firmly together.

Fitz revelled in the feel of her lips unashamedly pushing against his, and the hurried little gasps she made between kisses when the requirement for oxygen could no longer be ignored. He actually lost all concept of time, focusing on moving in unison with her, and breathing when she did to minimise the intervals their lips were apart.

There was a slight pause between her onslaughts, so Fitz decided to make use of the break. “Oh, so this is for _my_ benefit, is it?” he questioned, before another heated kiss delayed his next remark. “How altruistic of you.”

It wasn’t often they were at eye level with each other, and Fitz couldn’t work out if he preferred her gazing up at him, doe-eyed, or looking directly at him as she did now, pupils blown wide in lust.

“I may be extrapolating, but if you are feeling _half_ as horny as I am,” she said, shifting until the back of his neck rested in the crook of one of her elbows, “there is no way we are going to make it through the celebrations without suspiciously sneaking off.”

“Really?” Fitz’s mouth dropped open slightly at her brazenness. “You’re feeling . . .” He couldn’t even repeat the rest of her sentence. “But this afternoon, you seemed to be chatting away like everything was just . . . normal.”

“Have you not noticed that I have had my hands on you at every opportune moment, without it being ridiculously obvious to everyone else?” She actually laughed at him. “Would you have preferred that I accosted you against the wall in the common room?”

Fitz’s tongue unconsciously swept over his bottom lip. She had a point.

Jemma rested her cheek against his, placing her lips against his ear as she whispered: “When I finished that question, and realised you were gone . . .” He actually heard her swallow before continuing, “If I hadn’t been banned from exiting, it would have been the first time I left an exam early.”

He was processing what she had said. So she _was_ as affected as he was. Was it wrong that that thought actually filled him with pride? His body was being hit by such a multitude of emotions that his brain had seemed to become redundant. When he failed to react, she dropped down on her heels and pulled her head back slightly.

“Or am I being presumptuous?” Her eyes had the smallest hint of doubt in them. It broke his heart. He realised she must have taken his inaction to mean he wasn’t as invested in this dalliance as she was.

He gave her a sincere look. “Hell no.” He leaned down and gave her a searing kiss, shifting his hands lower until they were cupped under her backside and pulled her towards him so their lower halves melded closer together.

The sensation made her falter and her lips stopped moving against his. Their noses were still touching, and he felt her warm breath as she sighed. With a roll of her hips and his name falling from her mouth in a breathy plea, it became apparent that one of her skills was decreasing his refractory period, when he felt the stirring in his pants beginning again. She probably could too. The fact that it was only just happening now was likely a dead giveaway as to what he had been doing when she had phoned him. She was a biologist, after all.

And even though the thought of Jemma knowing that he had succumbed to his urges was enough to make him blush every time he saw her picture pop up on his phone for the next month, he was actually thankful he had _taken care_ of things earlier. As eager as Jemma seemed, he assumed she wouldn’t appreciate him suffering a premature celebration, so to speak.

He guided her back towards the bed. These days, he almost knew the layout of her room better than his own, so he could traverse the distance without having to break contact with her mouth.

When her legs came up against the bed, he kept one hand behind her back as she lay down, trying to prevent her from falling too heavily. He thought it would seem noble, but in reality, she controlled most of their descent by keeping her hands clasped firmly behind his neck. Her calves remained dangled over the end, and Fitz barely had time to shuffle more comfortably above her on the single bed, knees braced either side of her hips before her mouth was once again hungrily moving against his.

“Jemma.” He managed to utter her name after a few moments, but she didn’t seem to register the sound. He actually had to place one hand on the bed beside her and use his other to detach her hands from his neck. He sat up, his crotch resting against her thighs.

Her brow furrowed at the unfairness of being bereft of his lips, until she realised it was so he could discard his cardigan. She pushed herself up when she saw her opportunity to help divest him of his shirt, eagerly undoing the top button before he had fully extricated himself from his cardigan. His arms became tangled in the sleeves as he tried to hastily remove the garment behind his back. He eventually freed himself, the woollen material cascading to the floor, but it had given her an unfair head-start in unbuttoning his shirt before he could get started on hers.

Luckily, he had extremely dextrous fingers. 

Competitiveness was a familiar notion to them, and Fitz quickly reduced Jemma’s lead. Until he popped open the third button, revealing the dark material of her bra. He stalled momentarily, his attention now diverted to the creamy swell of her breasts disappearing behind the thin cotton. But then it seemed to spur him on, even if he fumbled more than usual.

Jemma was pleased with herself that she had finished while Fitz still had the bottom two buttons of her shirt to go. Not just for bragging rights, but also because it let her watch him more intently. She almost felt undeserving of his worshiping gaze, which intensified as more flesh was revealed.

When he finally undid the last button, he slid his hands under the blouse, marvelling at the softness of her skin. He felt her hands mirroring his, dainty fingers skimming over his abdomen and coming to rest on his lower back and he looked up, her dark eyes meeting his. He couldn’t resist her alluring stare, both hands abandoning her waist to cup her face instead.

And then their mouths were once again dancing against each other, tongues duelling and breath mingling. Jemma lay back down, grabbing the loose edges of his shirt to pull him down with her. His body craved more contact, so this time he lay flush against her, savouring the delicate skin of her abdomen brushing against his. He braced his forearms either side of her head, continuing his kisses for several more seconds before pulling his head back slightly. He felt his chest tighten at the image of her: dark hair fanned out in a halo, lightly freckled cheeks that were flushed pink and dark lashes framing her trusting eyes. It felt like he was drugged, and it was coursing through his veins, urging him to take more.

He placed light kisses under her jaw, desperately reining in his desire so he didn’t mark the perfect skin on her neck.  He knew her well enough to save his more enthusiastic ones for areas that would be covered by clothing. He followed the column of her throat as the fingers of his right hand skimmed her collarbone.

He felt one of her fingers tracing his spine under his shirt, his nerves tingling along the path left in its wake. He shuffled down her body slightly, placing wet kisses over her chest until he reached the rim of her bra. He considered trying to remove it, but abandoned the idea when he realised he would have to separate his body from hers, even if briefly. Instead, he pulled the cup on one side down until he could see her nipple, watching in fascination as it hardened when the colder air crept over it.

He bent his head down, placing a light kiss on the pink nub, and he felt her other hand slide to the nape of his neck. His mouth fell open, hot breath splashing across her breast as he rested his forehead on her chest, enjoying the feel of her fingers massaging his head. And then he felt her touch becoming more insistent, and he was suddenly reminded of his mouth’s initial intent.

He closed his mouth over her nipple, tongue gently probing into the small bud. He heard her breath hitch, her fingers stilling. And then he began swirling his tongue more firmly, her hand pushing his head into her flesh in response. His teeth just grazed against her skin and when he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub once more, he actually felt them both lift slightly as her back arched. He wasn’t expecting her reaction to be so intense and he looked up in surprise. Jemma’s head was tilted back, eyes tightly closed.

He crawled the short distance until their faces were level once more, and placed a soft kiss against her lips. He watched her for a moment before closing his eyes too, deepening the kiss. And when their lips finally broke apart, Fitz kept his eyes closed, savouring the taste of her.

He felt her hot breath swirling over his moistened lips, and when he opened his eyes, she was looking at him with such reverence that the flood of emotion that had hit him earlier came back in abundance. He felt compelled to tell her how he felt, but was also worried she may not be prepared for that revelation just yet.

He was teetering between the options when her fingers tightened in the clump of curls at the back of his head and she pulled his mouth against hers, kissing him hard. The hand that had been exploring his back now snaked between their lower bodies, and he felt his cock swell when her fingers squeezed him through his pants.

“Jemma, stop.” He took a deep breath as he stared down at her for a moment, then shifted so he was lying on his side, facing her.

She bit her bottom lip, as if restraining it from its preferred destination.  “I hope you don’t mean indefinitely?” She was only half-joking. She rolled on her side until she was facing him.

“I just need to tell you . . .” he looked at her in earnest, willing himself to say those three words that had been hounding him all afternoon. He looked at her staring back at him, her control diminishing by the second. His brow furrowed in consternation. “Before we . . .”

“Have sex?” She was used to finishing his sentences for him, and she could see he was struggling. She actually found it endearing that he was still so reserved at times.

“Yes, before that.” He sighed, trying to gather his words. “I want you to know now, so you don’t think I am just saying it in some endorphin-flooded euphoria.”

“Fitz, you don’t _need_ to say it.” She looked into his eyes. “I already know.” She couldn’t help but smile as his brow wrinkled, as though he was unsure of how she would respond. “I feel the same.”

He released a shuddering breath. “Really?” As much as he had wanted to believe it, hearing her reciprocate his feelings sent a whole new wave of emotion through him.  

 She nodded. “I lust you too.”

His hopeful eyes merged to dismay. “Did you just say . . .” Fitz scrunched his face up in confusion, “you lust me?”

“I’m _kidding_.” She smiled and rolled her eyes at his naivety. “I love you, Fitz. Of course I love you.”

The relief that washed over him was obvious, but she bent her head toward him anyway, capturing his lips in a gentle, deliberate kiss, just in case he still had any doubts. He felt his chest swell at her confirmation.

She pulled her head back slightly, one corner of her lip curling. “But I do lust you as well.”

Jemma rolled over until her lithe frame was on top of his. Her dark hair fell in thick waves on either side of Fitz’s head, everything except her face obliterated from his view. And in that moment, Fitz thought that anything outside that cocoon could cease to exist, and he would still have his world. 

Fitz felt her hands brace against his chest to steady herself as she leaned down to claim his lips. He was pleased they had shifted position so his hands were now free to roam over her body. They skipped down the sides of her ribs and encased her waist, assisting gravity in pulling her more snugly against him. He then spread his hands over the small of her back and slowly slid them lower until they disappeared under the rim of her jeans, grazing the curve of her backside.

His fingers probed into her supple flesh and he could feel her pelvis grinding into him, the bulge in his pants now straining against the coarse fabric. She lightly bit his lip in response, a shuddering breath escaping in conjunction. His hands traced the outline of her hips until his fingers found the button on her jeans, and he felt her lift her lower half in assistance. He made quick work of the button and zipper, then hooked his thumbs over the band of the jeans, pushing them down to her thighs without breaking contact with her mouth.

He felt one of her hands shift to also pull at the material. He didn’t know what sorcery she employed to get them the rest of the way off without her body having to break from his, but he just notched it up as another of her skills that he very much appreciated. 

His left hand traversed back over her arse, searching further until it settled into the groove between her thighs, and the knowledge that there was only a thin piece of cotton between his fingers and the enticing flesh that lay beneath caused him to buck his hips. He didn’t just hear her groan as his firmness pushed into her clit; he felt the shudder through her whole body, felt the vibration of her chest against his.

And he wanted to hear it again, and feel it again, and escalate each moan until she was shouting his name. Well, not to the point that her dorm-mates would hear, but some unrestrained desire would be gratifying.

The logistics of shagging in her single bed were somewhat problematic; he couldn’t exactly roll all the way over without them tumbling onto the floor. At this stage, it didn’t seem like an entirely unreasonable proposition; he may have even pictured that exact scenario a few times in the last couple of weeks while they had sat on the plush rug as they studied. Instead, he half lifted her and half rolled until they were back to their original alignment.

She looked up at him, a little surprised by how deftly he had switched their positions. Even he was a bit stunned by his uncharacteristic burst of strength. To be fair, he currently had some delectable inspiration nestled underneath him.

He covered her mouth with his as he nudged at her thighs with his knees. She parted them slightly until he could settle his lower half between them. Her fingers managed to undo his button and zip as his mouth moved to her neck. He felt a sense of pride at how rapid her pulse felt beneath his lips.

But when he felt her nails graze him through his boxers, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer if he let her take control. He grabbed at her hands, pulling them up to a more safe location. He entwined his fingers in hers, pushing them into the mattress beside her shoulders.

He looked at her then. _Really_ looked at her; past her eyes and into her soul. “I want this feeling to last for as long as possible.”

She looked up at him with such devotion that he couldn’t help but bend his head for another lingering kiss; slow and measured and full of loyalty. When he finally pulled back, her head lifted, attempting to follow his mouth. He suddenly remembered how much she had seemed to enjoy the slow torment she had put him through the night before.  He lifted his head a little higher, staying just tantalizingly out of reach and looked at her with a hint of impish charm.

He kept her hands firmly clasped in his and licked a trail from the base of her throat to the cleft between her breasts. He didn’t want to risk relinquishing hold of her hands, fairly sure she would shoot them right back to where they had been moments earlier if he didn’t prevent her.

“Fitz, please.” He could see her bottom lip whitening as she bit down on it.

He could feel her wriggling beneath him, then her thighs squeezed around his hips. The thin cotton of his boxer shorts was doing little to contain his hardening cock as it bulged out from the gap of his open jeans, and he could feel the heat radiating from where her mound was pressing into him.

He knew she was enjoying the sensation as much as him, but he shuffled down slightly, not wanting to be overwhelmed too soon.

He used his chin to push the material of her bra down until his tongue could swirl around her nipple. He felt her chest rising and falling more forcefully under his lingual ministrations and he couldn’t prevent his hips bucking into the edge of the mattress. He shifted his attention to the other nipple, hoping he could get her closer to satisfaction before his resolve crumbled. He kept the small bud in place with his teeth, probing into the puckered flesh with his tongue as she tensed under him.

“As gallant as your motives are,” she said with a breathy moan, “I may have to retract my earlier statement if you don’t get your pants off.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her urgency, and he wondered if she could feel the curl of his lips as he pressed them into the soft skin just below her sternum.

“I’m getting there,” he said, slinking further down her body until his tongue could circle her navel. He felt her fingers clench into his grip. He finally risked releasing her hands and trailed wet kisses down her lower belly, her abdomen flinching in response when his fingers hooked under the rim of her underwear “But first . . .” He felt her fingers eagerly scrunch into tufts of his hair as he tugged at the material. “I think some payback is in order for last night.”


	6. Chapter 6

Three days had passed since the exam period had finished, and most of the students had already left for the Christmas break. Of course, for those who actually resided on the same continent as the Academy, it was a much easier journey home. They weren’t leaving until later that afternoon, but both Fitz and Simmons had their belongings already packed.  

They had heard mutterings along the grapevine that the results were out, but had opted to spend some more time together in Jemma’s room before venturing out onto campus. It was getting colder each day, so staying indoors seemed like an entirely reasonable alternative. And Fitz was more than happy to keep Jemma warm when needed.

Which seemed to be quite a significant amount of the time.

They were currently sitting on the rug, Jemma resting her back against Fitz’s chest. He was propped against her bed, and she had her arms resting on his knees where they bent on either side of her chest. The laptop was perched on a chair in front of them. The scene they were watching had them discussing the probability of the spaceship not making it to orbit and crashing down in some heart-wrenching yet totally foreseeable disaster.

Although an enjoyable point of debate, the scientific inaccuracies of the film were becoming too numerous and Jemma was getting bored. She twisted her head until she could see Fitz’s face.

“Should we go check?”

“Does that mean I have to move from this position?” Fitz snaked his arms around her waist.

She gave him a coy smile. “We can’t stay here _all_ day.”

“Speak for yourself,” he said, then nestled his head in the crook of her neck and nibbled at her skin.

“ _Fitz!”_ she admonished playfully, giggling as she half-heartedly fought him off. She wriggled in his arms at the tickling sensation and finally extricated herself from his embrace.

She stood up and turned to face him, both hands in supination. “Come on,” she said.

He hung his head and exhaled overtly, but lifted his arms until Jemma could grab onto them and haul him up.

Jemma grabbed her jacket and shoved a pink beanie on while Fitz retrieved his crumpled cardigan from the bed. She smiled when she saw him subconsciously adjust the tie that hung from his neck. He had seemed to take note of her previous approval and worn one every day since the exam.

They headed down the corridor and Fitz was still trying to rearrange the sleeves of his cardigan more comfortably as they rounded the corner.

Sebastian nearly ran into them again. This time he at least managed to stop short of actually making contact.

“You really should be more careful carrying that imposing frame around,” Fitz said, hands akimbo. He was legitimately trying to ascertain how someone who spent several hours a day working with computers developed muscles of such magnitude.

Sebastian looked sheepish. “Sorry. It’s just; when you spend so much of your time stuck in a windowless basement, it is hard not to be sprightly once you get to taste the freedom of outside. Get some exercise, you know, keep the body in top shape.”

“Hmm,” Fitz responded. “And just how _does_ one manage to get a physique like that if most of their time is spent in front of a screen?”

Sebastian looked around furtively, as though he was letting the two of them in on a secret. “Well, Sam and I have been developing a virtual reality program in the last year. I mean, eventually we will modify it so it can be used for training purposes for S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives. But we thought we would actually make it _fun_ while we sort out the kinks. So, at the moment, there is a whole lot of fighting orcs, scaling mountains,” he paused, looking over to Jemma and giving her a wink, “saving the odd princess.”

Fitz bit his lip to refrain from flinching at Sebastian’s faux pas, even if he seemed to have meant it genially. He glanced sideways at Jemma to see how she would react. Luckily, she seemed to let the comment slide. In fact, she actually _smiled_ at him. And was _that_ what batting eyelashes looked like?

Fitz looked at Jemma in confusion. If she had decided to take the comment to heart, he actually held some concerns for Sebastian’s safety. Well, his dignity at least. She could slay him with one quick-witted lash of her tongue if she so desired. And here she was… _rewarding_ his behaviour. Or was she mocking him? Sometimes she was such a good actress he couldn’t tell.

And she thought she was terrible at lying.

“Anyway, by the time you are hooked up to the sensors, and we add the resistance components, the muscle building just happens without you even realising. I mean, when you are dodging and slaying dragons, it is amazing what endurance you realise you have.”

Fitz unconsciously started to lean forward as his imagination ran wild with the fantastical world being described.

“It’s actually great to go a little nuts in the lab too, without an audience. Because, let’s face it, thrusting cutlasses through pirates’ chests and defending castles with a broadsword looks much cooler in game than what your body is doing in real life.” He gave them a humble shrug. “Well, we actually changed the swords to lightsabers, because, well . . . they’re awesome.”

Fitz actually puffed himself up a bit in interest. Hand-eye coordination, medieval lore, _lightsabers_? And build up some muscles along the way. _This_ he could do. “Do you need anyone else to alpha test the game?”

Sebastian’s face remained stoic for a few seconds, before a toothy grin appeared. “Nah, I’m just messing with you.” He gave Fitz a gentle punch in the bicep. Well, gentle by his standards. Fitz was pretty sure he would still feel the imprint of Sebastian’s knuckles for three more days. “I go to the gym, like a normal person.”

Fitz felt his body deflate. Jemma looked over at him and _actually_ sniggered, which earned her a glare for her betrayal.

“Anyway, I had better get going. My bus is set to leave in less than an hour.” He gave some sort of vague salute to the pair before starting to jog off towards his room.

“See you after the holidays, Bass,” Jemma called out as he waved over his shoulder.

She started walking again, Fitz falling in step beside her. 

“ _Bass_?” Fitz echoed, with a mocking tone.

Jemma gave him an unsure stare. “Yeah, like, short for Se- _bass_ -tian.”

“Oh, thanks for clearing that up,” Fitz said with an eye-roll. “Here I was thinking it was because he has a mouth as big as a deep sea fish.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I _meant_ : I didn’t know you two were such good buddies.”

“I guess it is hard not to bump into one another fairly often when you live directly across from each other.”

“He didn’t seem to mind bumping into you the other day,” Fitz muttered under his breath.

“Pardon?” Jemma asked, craning her neck forward as though the extra inch may help her hearing if he dared repeat.

He knew she heard him perfectly well the first time. “Nothing.”

Fitz was glad she didn’t press him to elaborate further on his jealous glitch. It was stupid anyway. She had made it abundantly clear that she was only interested in him. But he couldn’t help worrying that all the other guys at the Academy were scrambling over each other to get her, and one day she might notice.

She obviously detected he was deep in thought with concern, because he felt her hand slip into his and gently squeeze. He looked over at her with a self-deprecating smile. And he realised that maybe he should start being a little less reserved in public, so this time he didn’t drop her hand, but squeezed it in return. She responded with an adorable nose scrunch as she walked beside him in amicable silence.

Now that he thought about it, most of the other guys had questioned him at some point about the inner workings of Jemma Simmons. He often shrugged and brushed off the question, or mumbled something about Jemma being more invested in pursuing her studies than worrying about other distractions. They all seemed to slink off in disappointment when he failed to reveal anything useful. And it was honestly what he had also believed since they had met. He now recognised that most of the other guys _were_ attracted to her, and she just didn’t care. He had even heard her say that she often got bored, except when she was with him. And he had not clicked on to that fact for so long.

A chill breeze swirled its way over the quadrangle as they walked together, and Fitz felt Jemma lean ever so slightly closer. He shifted his grip until his fingers were intertwined with hers and placed his other hand over the back of hers to warm it up. She really did have quite cold hands. He didn’t mind though.

Fitz looked down at his best friend, but Jemma was staring ahead with a contented look on her face. For the first time in his scholarly life, he was not looking forward to holidays. They had already booked flights home by the middle of the term so each had separate journeys to their respective countries. Maybe they could organise to meet up before the next semester resumed. It wasn’t _that_ far. I mean, Britain could basically fit within the _state_ in which they were currently residing.  

He was about to bring up the topic but they had finally reached the noticeboard. Jemma dropped his hand and her finger skimmed over the scores posted up on the wall, immediately searching the top of the list. Unsurprisingly, their names took up the top two positions. By a significant margin. They grinned at each other.

However, she had beaten him by three marks; which was, incidentally, the value of the last part of the final question. He pointed the fact out to her.

She seemed unperturbed by the revelation, obviously more pleased by just how much they had beaten their classmates on the test. “We should employ the same study technique for every exam.”

She nudged him with her elbow until his attention diverted from the board to her and raised her eyebrows.

Fitz crossed his arms over his chest. “I maintain that we would have been equal first if it _wasn’t_ for that particular method.”

She tilted her head and pouted, as though completely innocent of all wrongdoing. She glanced around quickly to make sure they were still alone, then gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. Fitz felt the familiar rush, and when she pulled back he stopped her, cupping her face and pulling her back again so he could slowly move his lips against hers and savour the sensation for a little longer.

The whole campus could have been watching for all he cared.

She actually seemed a little dazed when she finally opened her eyes. “Even though that performance seems to suggest otherwise,” she said, taking a moment to compose herself, “if you want to study alone, that can be arranged.” It was just like Jemma to want to have the last word.

He tried to use that telepathy they shared to convey that she was a conniving charlatan who unfairly used her charm to maintain her position above him in the rankings.  She merely gazed at him with wide eyes and a disarming smile, the picture of purity.

If she kept this up, she would beat him on every test.

He shrugged. _Worth it_.


End file.
